


Better Than Feeling Guilty

by idiom



Category: Vikings (TV)
Genre: Blow Jobs, Explicit Sexual Content, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Multi, Smut, Threesome - F/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-03
Updated: 2013-05-03
Packaged: 2017-12-10 07:50:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,343
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/783596
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/idiom/pseuds/idiom
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ragnar takes Athelstan back east over the ocean and the poor monk spends his days and nights worrying that the man’s wife, Lagertha, will find out about their affair. Little does he know, he has nothing to worry about. [Slightly AU. Sequel to Despoilment.]</p>
            </blockquote>





	Better Than Feeling Guilty

-o-

To say that Athelstan was disoriented by the new world around him would be putting it mildly. Yes, it was true that he had journeyed east before, but the customs by which these Northmen lived were extraordinarily different from one tribe to the next. The tribe he had stayed with during his previous travels had been, well, civilized. Though Athelstan did have a growing fondness for the man, Ragnar’s people, were in comparison… well, heathens. Athelstan could only thank God for the elderly cleric he’d stayed with on his last mission who had taught him the language and that Ragnar had deemed him useful.

Athelstan knew that the only reason he was still alive was because that little fact – the fact that Ragnar had deemed him useful; however, he did not know what his purpose was in Ragnar’s household. The man hadn’t touched him again and it seemed as though Ragnar trusted him with very little work, besides caring for his children while he and Lagertha were away. The children were practically old enough to take care of themselves, mind you; so Athelstan had little to worry about.

It was all so different. Living in the monastery, he and his brothers were allotted a full days worth of tasks daily that would take them till from dawn till dusk to complete. For the first time he had time to relax, meditate… read his Bible.

Athelstan sighed. By god, he was bored! What did these Northmen do with the spare time?

A sounds from Ragnar’s bed behind the decorative partition reminded him.

Ah. Yes. There was that.

Athelstan looked up from the scriptures and caught a glimpse of Ragnar in bed with his wife, Lagertha. He could see that they were both naked and Lagertha was straddling Ragnar’s lap. Her back arched as she moved atop him; smooth skin glowing golden in the dim candlelight and her blonde mane fell beautifully down over one shoulder. Lagertha panted hard, letting out pleasured, almost animalistic huffs as she rode her husband, using him for her sexual gratification.

It wasn’t the sight of their bestial rutting, but the sounds that made Athelstan blush and look away. He stared down at the pages of his Bible, seeing the words without reading them. The sounds hit a natural crescendo, then they gently died down. With a sigh, Athelstan closed his eyes, thinking that he might now be able to sleep in peace.

“Athelstan.”

That thought was perhaps a bit premature as he was pulled back into reality by an all too familiar masculine voice from the darkness. He looked up to see Ragnar standing there, his naked body glowing as Lagertha’s had in the soft light. He was regarding Athelstan with a satisfied smile.

“Why don’t you join us?” he asked casually, smirking a bit as if he could see Athelstan’s reaction.          

Athelstan’s eyes widened. The question was an unexpected to say the least. For a second he though that maybe he had misunderstood. But judging by Ragnar’s gesturing towards his marital bed, he had not. “I have told you before. I mustn’t; God is watching.”

“God is watching.” Ragnar chuckled and ran his fingers though his braids to scratch at his crown. “Was your God watching us back in your England as well? Watching me fuck his priest?”

Athelstan pressed himself back against the wooden wall as Ragnar crouched down onto his mat.

“Your God sounds like a voyeur. He sounds like the trickster; are you sure that you don’t worship Loki?” Ragnar asked with a smirk.

Athelstan looked at him, completely aghast. Without another word, he closed his bible and turned in his place on the bed. Facing the wall, he began praying. In rambling whispers, he begged the Holy Mother for forgiveness.

Ragnar let out a breathless laugh. He kneeled on the bed behind Athelstan and pressed himself to the smaller man’s back as he continued to pray. Though Ragnar could not understand, he listened to Athelstan’s prayers while he nuzzled his face into the younger man’s neck.

“Don’t you want to?” he asked, his breath whispering against the smooth skin there.

Did he want to join them? Athelstan paused in his prayers to let out a shuddering breath. Maybe, but he did not respond to the question and soon Ragnar backed off. However, just before he did so he spoke soft into Athelstan’s ear.

“Sleep well then… priest.”

-o-

Of course, Ragnar was never one to back off for good. Lagertha and the children went out to fish at the lake while Ragnar had spent most of the morning chopping firewood. He spent a good part of the rest of his day lying in his bed watching Athelstan. Athelstan had been trying his hand at Lagertha’s loom. He could only make simple patters that Lagertha had had Gyda teach him in an effort to improve Gyda’s own skills.

Athelstan pressed a few strings down into place before taking a moment to look over at Ragnar. He caught the man staring at him with a peculiar gaze that made him flush. So, he turned away quickly and went back to pressing the yarn. Behind him, he heard Ragnar moving to sit up in his bed.

“Why are you suddenly being so cold to me, Athelstan?” Ragnar asked. Athelstan couldn’t see his face, but somehow he knew from the man’s tone that he bore a pained expression.

“I’m not!” Athelstan caught himself and cleared is throat. “I’m not,” he repeated with less force. He glanced over at Ragnar briefly before turning back to his work. The Viking definitely didn’t look convinced.

“I just feel that-” Athelstan started and stopped. He could sense Ragnar’s presence behind him in the moment the man approached. His body was like a furnace, Athelstan almost found himself leaning back into the warmth.

“You know, I do not take men to my bed often,” Ragnar murmured behind him. “But I find myself missing the feel of your flesh against mine.”

“Ragnar.”

“Don’t you miss me between you legs, Athelstan?”

Athelstan felt an electric shock run through him at those words. The intense feeling congregated in his abdomen and kindled the rising fire there. He looked up at his ruined stitch work on the loom as Ragnar came to sit beside him. The pattern was wrecked, it would take hours to unpluck and he would have to-

That train of thought was completely derailed by Ragnar’s hand as it landed on his thigh. Another thrill of sensation ran through Athelstan, projecting from the place Ragnar touched and focusing between his legs.

“Admit it.” Ragnar chuckled into his ear. His hands were moving, fingers briefly dipped into the waist of Athelstan’s trousers. “You have missed me.”

Athelstan shivered and gasped out his name. Ragnar stroked him through his pants, gripping the shape of Athelstan’s cock visible there. The feel of the rough fabric against his skin discomfited and pleasured him at the same time. He gripped Ragnar with one hand on his knee and another on his shoulder, his fingers digging into the thick fabrics of his clothes.

“Ragnar,” Athelstan repeated under his breath. He silently begged the man to stop his torment and either leave him be or just get on with it.

Ragnar only shook his head slowly. He leaned forward and bit the shell of Athelstan’s ear. “Admit it.”

Athelstan made an unintelligible sound, but Ragnar could make out a clear relenting, “Yes.”

“I knew it,” Ragnar chuckled. His hands slipped back under the waist of Athelstan’s trousers, unlacing them as he went. Athelstan was already biting his lips in anticipation. Ragnar’s fingers had barely touched the flesh hidden therein when a voice from the door interrupted them.

“What are you boys doing?”

Athelstan froze, Ragnar did not. His hand left Athelstan’s pants, but one kept moving under his thin nightshirt caressing his sides while the other moved to gently stroke his inner thigh. Athelstan knew they were lucky that it was getting dark; Lagertha hadn’t seemed to notice what they were doing.

“The priest is teaching me some of his language,” Ragnar explained without taking his eyes off Athelstan.

“Really?” When she saw Athelstan nod quickly, Lagertha let out a short huff of a laugh. Little did she know, Athelstan could not voice a reply for fear of letting out an incredibly undignified moan.

“Good luck with this man, priest. He is a poor student, but he has a talented tongue.” Ragnar shoved her gently and Lagertha grinned. Placing a kiss to his temple, she said, “Gyda is still at the lake with Bjorn, I will fetch them and return soon,” before leaving the house once more.

“No need to rush,” Ragnar said, though he said it so quietly that Athelstan was made to wonder who the words were really meant for.

Athelstan was flushed with embarrassment. He stared down at the floor, eyes wide and guilty. All the joy and pleasure he found in Ragnar’s arms couldn’t make up for the shame he felt knowing the man’s wife was watching… that he had a wife.

Athelstan took a deep shuddering breath. “I am going to go pray.” He moved to stand, but the hands on this thighs stopped him.

Rangar tutted, shaking his head slowly as he forced Athelstan back into his seat. “Not so fast. I haven’t finished with you yet.”

Athelstan let out a strangled sound as the Viking once again moved to work his fingers into his pants. He pleaded with the man to just let him go. “Ragnar.”

“Don’t deny that you enjoy it.” Rangar let out a growl of frustration as he tried to hold up Athelstan’s shirt and take him in hand at the same time. “Stand up,” he ordered.

“Of course I do, but-”Athelstan finished with a yielding sigh. He did as he was with some hesitance evident in his shaky legs.

Athelstan blushed furiously once he was on his feet. Ragnar’s face was level with his groin and the evidence of his arousal was fairly prominent through his thin trousers. He looked down to see Ragnar smirking up at him. Ragnar reminded Athelstan of the cats the kept to catch mice back at the monastery; ready to pounce on his cornered prey.

“Don’t look so worried, Athelstan,” Ragnar murmured. His eyes moved down the monk’s lean form to his hips until he was looking straight ahead. “I promise it will be as good as last time.”

Suddenly, Ragnar grinned and his eyes were once more locked with Athelstan’s. “Why don’t you take off your shirt.” As Athelstan moved to obey, he added, “slowly.”

Athelstan took a shaky breath and stripped. He pulled it over his head before letting it slide down his arms. Ragnar pulled it from him as it bunched at his wrists and tossed it over to his bed in the corner.

“Now the rest.”

The ties on his pants were already loose. All Athelstan had to do was push the fabric to the narrower part of his hips and let them fall. He gasped as Ragnar’s hands on his hips pulled him forward, making him step out of his bunched up pants, but also closer to the man himself.

Ragnar hummed his approval, stroking his hands up and down, caressing Athelstan’s sides.

Athelstan couldn’t have known what was coming next, and he never would have guessed. Even if he’d been told what was about to happen he probably would have just laughed at the knowledge like a bad joke. But it wasn’t a joke. It was actually happening.

Ragnar’s lips were upon him, wrapped around the head of his cock. Athelstan cried out at the moist heat of Ragnar’s mouth around his arousal, the feeling of Ragnar’s tongue moving over the sensitive flesh.  Warmth spread through his entire body, warmth unlike any he had ever felt before. It was so much different than the feel of Ragnar’s hand when he stroked him to completion, even more so than the feel of Ragnar’s cock inside him. Yes. He had passed into a new realm of sinful pleasure… and it was incredible.

Athelstan tried to keep from thrusting too deep and gagging Ragnar, but the man seemed to take him easily. Athelstan had to keep himself from crying out; Lagertha could come back from the lake with the children at any moment. He bit down on his fist, but still his soft cries were muted but not stopped. He just couldn’t remain silent when his body was in the grip of such fantastic sensations.

These sensations built until they reached their inevitable peak. In that moment, Athelstan couldn’t breath. Every ounce of air was relinquished from his lungs in a final gasping cry. His fingers clenched in Ragnar’s braids, tying to pull his head closer as Ragnar swallowed him.

Ragnar held him steady with one hand cupping his ass and the other holding his hips back. He somehow managed to stop the younger man from choking him as his hips stuttered and finally stilled. Ragnar pulled back, letting Athelstan’s satisfied cock fall from his lips before he swallowed a final time for show.

Athelstan watched his throat move and shivered. He sagged against Ragnar, clutching the man’s shoulders while he came down from his high. With a satisfied hum, he massaged Ragnar’s head as the man pressed his kisses to his stomach. Soon enough, his breathing evened out, deep and slow.

After a calm while, Ragnar chuckled against his skin. He stood and gently pushed Athelstan upright once more. Looking into the younger man’s heavy lidded eyes he said, “Now you can go pray… priest.”

Athelstan looked at Ragnar oddly even as the man helped him to his bed. “But you haven’t-” He flopped down naked on his mat and nodded towards the tented front of Ragnar’s trousers.

Ragnar pressed his hand to himself, giving his aching cock a few gentle rubs. “I am… saving myself. Is that not how you Christians say it?” He laughed.

Athelstan couldn’t help the amused smile this brought to his own lips. He watched Ragnar leave the house to go out in search of Lagertha and the children who were probably nearby now that it was night out. With a sigh, Athelstan pulled his nightshirt back on and settled down for bed, though he did not get much sleep.

That night he was once again kept awake by the sounds of Ragnar and Lagertha’s lovemaking. The forgotten guilt once again washed over him.

-o-

Ragnar did not wait long to approach Athelstan again. The very next night after they had all eaten and gotten ready to go off to bed, Rangar came around the partition to kneel behind Athelstan on his cot. As he said his prayers, Ragnar pressed himself to Athelstan’s back as he had done nights before, but this time dove straight in. He let Athelstan feel the hard line of his arousal through their clothes as he fit himself behind the smaller man, pressing his lips to Athelstan’s neck with lust filled fury.

“I want you,” Ragnar practically growled into his ear.

Athelstan held back a moan. “Not here,” he replied breathlessly.

“Not here?” Ragnar chuckled and pressed his face back into the place where Athelstan’s neck met his shoulder. His lips moved against the delicate skin there sending a thrill through the monk, causing him to shiver in Ragnar’s grasp. “Why not here? If not here then where?”

 “Not now then,” Athelstan retorted quietly. “Someone could walk in here at any moment. The children could-”

Ragnar laughed at the poor excuse. “The children are already in their beds, fast asleep.”

“But… your wife? She is just in the next room,” Athelstan hissed, pushing Ragnar away even as the man moved forward again.

Ragnar urged him to continue giving his explanation with an amused sounding, “Yes?”

“She will,” _kill me,_ “be upset.” Athelstan looked back at him with a pleading gaze. His voice got even quieter as he heard movement from the next room and he repeated, “Not here, not now.”

Ragnar frowned at him, his blue eyes narrowed and dark with confusion. He truly didn’t understand Athelstan’s worries. “Have you not heard us talking?”

Athelstan blinked. “I thought you said something about your wife, back in- but I didn’t think you were-” he stuttered and blushed. “I only understand some of your language and… and at times you speak too fast or I believe it to be private. I would not want to intrude.” He didn’t understand why this was so surprising to Ragnar.

The man laughed and shook his head. He bent forward, his lips pressed against Athelstan’s ear. “She already knows,” he breathed. Leaning back, he watched Athelstan’s widening eyes closely. “You understand now?”

Athelstan blinked, stunned. “She-?”

“Ragnar?”

That voice cut Athelstan off and drew his eyes away from Ragnar towards the threshold of the little nook in the wall.

Lagertha stood over them wearing only her thin nightgown, already unlaced at the front. The corner of her lips turned up in a little smirk as she eyed Ragnar with mock suspicion. “I hope you are not forcing yourself upon our dear priest, husband.”

Ragnar smiled back at her. “I would never,” he said, even as he continued moving his hands all over Athelstan, massaging his chest through the fabric of his shirt.

 “Hmm…” Lagertha eyed her husband warily, but she had to bite back a laugh when Athelstan met her gaze for a brief moment before lowering his eyes. She did not care if it was out of respect or fear, either way she enjoyed his submission. “Come to bed, priest.”

Athelstan blinked up to gaze back and forth between the couple with a stunned expression. Ragnar didn’t give him a chance to hesitate. He stood and lifted Athelstan with him, carrying the smaller man over to he and Lagertha’s marital bed.

Athelstan gasped as he was tossed onto the bed and the two above him only chuckled. Lagertha sat across from him while Ragnar pressed himself in behind, lifting him so that they were both kneeling on the bed in front of her. He stripped Athelstan and held his arms once finished so that Athelstan could not cover himself.

Athelstan was left bare and on display much to Lagertha’s obvious pleasure. Her eyes moved up and down his body while she smiled. “Don’t worry, Athelstan. Your body doesn’t offend me. Quite the opposite actually.”

Ragnar grinned at her approval. “How would you like to have our new pet, wife?”

Already, this was all becoming almost too much for Athelstan to bear. Everything felt too hot and Ragnar’s hands on him burned, rekindling the fire from the night before. Athelstan blushed furiously, shivering in the man’s hold with a pleasant mixture of discomfort and anticipation.

“I- I cannot touch a woman.” He reminded them both quickly. He looked up at Lagertha, his eyes almost apologetic. “I never have, I mean… I have taken vows. I’m sorry.”

Lagertha only laughed. “Well then, the luck is mine, since your vows say nothing of men.” She leaned back against the bedding and started peeling off her nightgown. The thin fabric slipped easily from the soft curves of her body.

“I like to watch and while I know you cannot touch me…” Lagertha smirked. “…your God says nothing about women touching you, do they?” She reached up and Athelstan let out a soft whimper as strong, but seemingly delicate fingers ran down his chest. Lagertha retraced that line up the center of Athelstan’s body with her tongue. She only stopped when she reached his ear. “When you see your God, you can just tell him that I forced myself on you. From what you’ve told us he is merciful,” she whispered.

Ragnar pressed closer to Athelstan from behind as the younger man shivered. He smiled and ran his hands up and down Athelstan’s arms, letting his hold on them grow loose.

“Be gentle, Lagertha, you frighten him,” Ragnar said with a hint of amusement in his tone.

Athelstan blushed and looked away from Lagertha, but did not challenge Ragnar’s words. He couldn’t lie; it was true. Athelstan found himself a thousand times more anxious around Ragnar’s deceptively dainty wife than the giant Viking himself.

Lagertha backed off slightly and huffed. “I frighten him?”

“You are not gentle enough,” Ragnar teased.

“I am gentle!” Lagertha retorted with an angry pout.

Ragnar eyed her, the corners of his lips turning ever so slightly.

“Then kiss him,” Ragnar said with a nod, “gently.”            

Athelstan looked back over his shoulder worriedly to Ragnar before turning to see Lagertha moving towards him. He took a breath, quaking at the fierce look in her eyes. Her lips were only breaths away.

“I won’t kiss you if you don’t want me to,” she whispered. “Just pretend your God has looked away for a moment.”

She was so close that Athelstan could feel her lips moving against his as she spoke. There was nothing for him to do but move his own lips in reply. Taking that as a signal, Lagertha pressed forward, deepening the kiss.

Athelstan moaned into it. His eyes fluttered closed as Lagertha’s tongue pierced his lips. He grew breathless as she ran her hands ran all over his naked chest. Athelstan was suddenly grateful for Ragnar holding back his arms, for he realized he wouldn’t have been able to stop himself from breaking his vows by pulling Lagertha closer, caressing her voluptuous chest and running his fingers through Lagertha’s gorgeous blonde mane should Ragnar let him go.

“Mm,” Lagertha sighed as she leaned back out of their embrace. “He is so timid.”

Athelstan flushed and looked down after their kiss broke. His cock stood hard between them, pressed to Lagertha’s thigh. He wanted to cover himself, hide the state he was in all because of a simple kiss, but Ragnar still held his arms.

Lagertha thankfully leaned away again. She stretched out on the bolsters and appraised the men kneeling before her. “Now you kiss him, husband,” she ordered as her fingers slipped down between her legs.

Athelstan’s eyes grew wide at the sight. Her flesh was wet and slick. He could see her fingers slide over it easily, one slowly moving up and down. Athelstan watched her pleasuring herself as she watched them. She took notice and one hand moved to her chest and she gently rolled and pinched her nipples between her fingers.

Ragnar finally released Athelstan’s arms, if only to take hold of his hips. “But you’ve only just started with him, Lagertha.”

“I said I want to watch,” Lagertha leaned back into the bedding. “I want to see what I missed when you were away without me.” She put special emphasis on the last few words.

Dutiful husband that he was, Ragnar conceded. Athelstan gasped as the man spun him around. “You realize we have not yet kissed,” Ragnar murmured.

“Oh?” Lagertha cocked her head to one side. “Really?”

Athelstan saw Ragnar cast her a sharp look and behind him Lagertha laughed. He supposed that she was excited to get to witness the first kiss she thought she had missed. When Ragnar focused on Athelstan once more, he didn’t meet his eyes. The Viking simply stared at his thrall’s kiss flushed lips with a hungry expression.

Athelstan tentatively moved his hands to Ragnar’s chest as he came closer. Ragnar caught his lips in a kiss. Kissing Ragnar was so different from kissing Lagertha. Lagertha was soft, but forceful and demanding in her nature while Ragnar was slow and gentle, but his skin and beard were rough against Athelstan’s skin. Athelstan put his hand on those rough cheeks to pull him closer and moaned in to their kiss.

“You treat him like he’s going to break, Ragnar,” Lagertha purred as she saw them brake for air. She adjusted her position on the bed slightly, creating more room for them. “Now… fuck him.”

“Lagertha!” Athelstan was aghast, shocked by the bluntness in her choice of words. Surely this was not reality; this was all just a dream. Things like this, they just didn’t happen.

“Come Ragnar, lie here.” Lagertha pulled Athelstan off Ragnar’s lap and into her arms so that Ragnar could lie on the bed. As she watched the man move into place, she lowered her head to Athelstan’s ear. “I want to watch you ride him like a bull,” she whispered.

Ragnar lay back against the bedding. With a smirk, he crossed his arms behind his head. He looked to the two sitting next to him, his expression curious as he wondered what Lagertha had said to Athelstan to make him blush so brilliantly.

Ragnar reached out his hand, to Athelstan.

“Go on,” Lagertha said, giving the monk a little shove. “Use him as you like.”

Ragnar let out a short laugh at that. “Yes, do.”

Athelstan straddled Ragnar’s thighs, staring down at the man’s cock standing firm between them, touching his own. He rolled his hips, only for a moment rubbing his cock against Ragnar’s just to see how it would feel. Judging by Ragnar’s groan, the answer was good.

Athelstan was unsure how to continue. He was unsure of the mechanics. Before, Ragnar had taken care of everything.

“I will get you ready for him, Athelstan.” Lagertha whispered behind him. She had in her hand an uncorked bottle of lamp oil. It was all too clear what she meant to do with it.

“Hmm, I suppose it is my turn to watch,” Ragnar purred. He gazed at the two with heavy-lidded eyes.

Athelstan let out a strangled cry as Lagertha trailed her fingers down between his legs. She pressed the slick digits into him, thrusting slowly in and out with the pace of Athelstan’s stunted thrusts. Athelstan had taken Ragnar’s cock before, Lagertha knew for she had heard the story in full detail, but he was still so very tight. She poured more oil onto her hand and slipped another finger in deep.

“Are you ready, Athelstan?” she asked, her voice slightly husky with lust.

“Yes!” Athelstan couldn’t bite back his pleas. He felt Lagertha’s fingers slipped out of him and let out a low moan at the loss. Between their legs he saw her oil slick hand grasp Ragnar’s cock. The man moaned as Lagertha gave his flesh a few deft strokes before positioning him at Athelstan’s entrance, the head of his cock pressed to his puckered hole.

“Now sit on it,” she ordered. Her eyes were focused between the,. biting her lip in anticipation.

Athelstan took a deep breath. He held himself over Ragnar with his hands on the man’s chest. All he had to do was move down, but he wasn’t sure he could.

Ragnar let out a frustrated sigh. “Let me help.” Suddenly, his hands were on Athelstan’s hips, pulling him down. Athelstan let out a ragged gasp as the full length of the man’s cock sank into him in a single upward thrust.

“He was meant to do it on his own,” Lagertha said. She lay next to Ragnar, pouting as she ran her fingers along his chest. “Must I hold down your arms?”

Ragnar chuckled, a breathless in raptured sound as he was finally inside Athelstan once more. Giving the monk only seconds to get used to being filled, Ragnar began rolling his hips in short thrusts. He didn’t even look at Lagertha as he answered her. “You might have to.”

“Hm.”

The entire conversation around him was just a blur of white noise to Athelstan. His entire body was already tight with excitement from Lagertha’s touch. Now a raging heat consumed him. Ragnar’s touch was like fire and he couldn’t escape the flames.

Ragnar had been controlling him; his hands governing the pace of Athelstan’s movement. It was a painfully slow pace. Athelstan would never be able to say exactly what he wanted, but Ragnar always already seemed to know, which meant the man was purposefully teasing him. Suddenly the hands on his hips gone and Athelstan looked up to see Lagertha had moved so that she was kneeling over Ragnar, facing Athelstan with her knees holding down Ragnar’s arms.

“Ride him, Athelstan,” she half gasped. As she spoke, Ragnar grasped her hips that he could still reach. He pulled her lower body over his face.

Athelstan’s eyes grew wide and he stilled for the briefest second to watched Ragnar’s tongue move between the folds of Lagertha’s flesh. Talented tongue, Lagertha had said. By the shivers visibly running through her entire body, it was apparent that Ragnar was talented indeed.

Athelstan began to move himself on Ragnar’s cock. All the guilt founded on long instilled doctrines quickly fled from his mind as he tried to find the angle and position that would best bring him pleasure. He tried rolling his hips over Ragnar’s, lifting himself slowly up and down, before finally bouncing on his cock. The sounds of their flesh meeting in these wicked acts filled the house.

“I am close.” Athelstan heard Lagertha gasp out. He looked up to see her reaching for him. “Athelstan.”

Athelstan noticed her leaning forward purposefully. He obliged her by doing so as well, meeting her half way for an all-consuming kiss. Lagertha caressed him in the midst of it. Running her fingers down his chest until she could smooth the pads of her thumbs over his nipples.

Athelstan’s orgasm took him by surprise, as did Lagertha’s by the looks of it. Her entire body quaked and her breath was suddenly coming in jolting pants. Athelstan took himself in hand to draw out the pleasure as his seed splashed across Ragnar’s heaving abdomen beneath them.

As Lagertha rolled off Ragnar, lying satisfied to the side, the man sat up and pushed Athelstan down so that the smaller man was lying back on the bedding. Athelstan’s contented form, relaxed in his bliss, was so easily malleable. Ragnar thrust into him with a savagery that caused little gasps to part from Athelstan’s lips each time he pistoned forward.

Lagertha got up and moved behind her husband. She placed her hands on his shoulders and watched the place where his flesh moved steadily in and out of Athelstan’s greedy body.

“Yes, Ragnar,” she hissed into his ear. Her tone spoke of a heady desire to see her husband come undone. “Take him.”

Ragnar grunted at her words. He leaned forward and kissed Athelstan again. Their lips didn’t part until the monk was gasping, desperate for air. As their kiss broke so did Ragnar’s control. With a final sharp thrust of his hips he spent himself deep inside Athelstan’s thoroughly ravaged body. Ragnar arched back against his wife kneeling behind him as he came down, his head rolled back to rest on her shoulder. For a while they just stayed there with their breaths mingling in the space between their lips.

Lagertha left briefly to fetch a cloth. She used it to tenderly clean Athelstan before tossing it Ragnar to wipe away his own filth. Ragnar accepted this with a soft chuckle.

The three of them slept together that night. Ragnar lay in the middle with his arms once more crossed behind his head. This expanded his chest leaving room for both Lagertha and Athelstan to lie across him.

Lagertha shot Athelstan a lecherous smile, before leaning forward to place a chaste kiss on his lips.

Ragnar pressed a kiss of his own to the crown of Athelstan’s head. “Did you like that, priest?” he asked softly.

Athelstan smiled against his chest. “No,” he replied with a muffled laugh.

Ragnar let out an annoyed sigh. “How many time must I tell you to stop lying to me?”

Lagertha laughed and Athelstan gave a little shrug. “At least say you enjoyed me?”

Athelstan only smiled again. It would become a competition of who could pleasure him best. Soon, he would never deny enjoying himself in their bed again.

 -o-

**Author's Note:**

> Comments and Kudos all very much appreciated and inspire me to write more porn ~!


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